CHAPTER III
ANGUS ASSERTS HIMSELF
Though the death of Adam Mackay made a great local sensation, its causeremained unexplained. Apparently he had been unarmed, and so it seemedplain murder. But on the other hand his strange silence was puzzling. Hehad been on good terms with most of his neighbors, or at least not onvery bad terms with anybody, save a couple of Indians whom he had caughtstealing and handled roughly. But these Indians had a perfectly goodalibi. There was no clew, no starting point. Nobody knew even which wayMackay had ridden on the day of his death. And so after a while it wasclassed with those mysteries which may be solved by time, but nototherwise.
Meanwhile, young Angus took up the burden of his responsibilities. Sofar as he knew he had no near relatives, and search of his father'spapers confirmed this. He was rather relieved than otherwise. He foundhis father's will, and struggling with its verbiage, set it aside toawait the return of the executor Isaac J. Braden, who was absent on abusiness trip.
Braden was known to Angus by sight and by reputation. He lived inMowbray, the nearest town, which was some sixteen miles from the ranch,where he was the big frog in its little puddle. He had a good many ironsin the fire. He ran a sort of private banking-loan-insurance business,dealt in real estate, owned an interest in a store, dabbled in localpolitics and was prominent in church matters. He was considered a veryable and trustworthy man. But young Angus, though he had very mistynotions of the functions of an executor, had a very clear and definiteconviction that it was up to him to run the ranch and look after hissister and brother. That was his personal job. And so he took stock ofthe situation.
Adam Mackay had owned in all a block of nearly two thousand acres. Ofthis about three hundred was cultivated or in pasture. The whole blockwas good, very level, with ample water for irrigation. On the range wasnearly a hundred head of cattle. There were horses in plenty--a coupleof work team, a team of drivers, and each young Mackay had a saddlepony. The buildings were good, and the wagons, sleighs, tools andmachinery in excellent condition. The ranch was a going concern,apparently in good shape. None the less it was a hard proposition for ayoungster to handle. It was like putting a cabin boy on the bridge tonavigate the ship.
Having been brought up on a ranch, he knew quite well how most workshould be done, and he had acquired by absorption rather than byconscious thought a good deal of theory. But Adam Mackay had himselfdone rather more than half the work. He had had but one steady hiredman, Gus Gustafson, a huge Scandinavian who was a splendid worker whentold what to do, but who had no head whatever. As Angus could not do thework his father had done he had to obtain additional help, and so hemade a proposition to Dave Rennie.
Rennie was not much of a farmer, but he came to the ranch temporarily atfirst out of his friendship for Angus, and remained.
On a certain Saturday afternoon Angus and Dave Rennie, engaged inhanging a new gate, saw a two-seated rig with three men approaching.Rennie peered at them.
"There's Braden," he said. "I heard he'd got back."
"And that's Nick Garland driving," Angus observed. "Who's the otherfellow?"
"Stranger to me. Garland, huh! I never had much use for that sport."
Garland was a young man whose business, so far as he had any, wasdealing in cattle. Uncharitable persons said that he dealt more poker.He was a good-looking chap, after a fashion, who affected cowboy garb,rode a good horse, was locally known and considered himself a devilamong the girls, and generally tried to live up to the reputation of adead-game sport.
The third man, whom neither Angus nor Dave recognized, was anondescript, sandy individual with drooping shoulders, a drooping noseabove a drooping moustache which but partially concealed a droopingmouth. On the whole, both Garland and this stranger seemed uncongenialcompanions for Mr. Braden.
That celebrity grunted as he climbed down. He was a fleshy man of middleage, clean shaven, carefully dressed, with small, somewhat fishy eyes.He took Angus' brown, hardened paw in a soft, moist palm, putting hisleft hand on his shoulder in a manner which he intended to besympathetic and protecting; but at which Angus squirmed inwardly andgrew rigid outwardly, for in common with normal boys he hated the touchof a stranger.
"And so," said Mr. Braden in a short-winded, throaty voice which heldan occasional curious pant like an old-time camp meeting exhorter, "andso this is Angus! It is a matter of great regret to me, my boy, that Iwas absent at the time of your bereavement. You and your young sisterand your young brother have my heartfelt sympathy in this your time oftribulation--huh. Your father was a very dear friend of mine, a man in athousand, one of nature's noblemen. 'We ne'er shall look upon his likeagain,' as the poet truly remarks. However, there is no use cryingover--that is, the Lord giveth and taketh away--huh, as you have beentaught, no doubt. As executor of your father's will my dear boy, Iregard myself as in loco parentis, and I hope you will regard me in thatway, too."
He beamed most benevolently, but Angus was unimpressed. Mr. Braden, ifhe had only known it, could not have made a worse start. A quiet word ofsympathy or a firm grip of the hand without words would have gone far.As it was, he quite failed to inspire liking or confidence.
They went to the house together, where Mr. Braden said much the samething over again to Jean, and patted her head. And young Turkey,unwarily peeping through the door, was called in and addressed as "mylittle man" and patted also; which attentions he acknowledged with afierce scowl and a muttered word, which fortunately Mr. Braden did nothear.
But these preliminaries over, Mr. Braden got down to business at once.In a few brief but pointed questions he found out all there was to knowabout the ranch and the stock, and he skimmed through such papers asAngus produced, with a practised eye.
"H'm, yes, yes," he said. "Now I think I understand the situation. Ihave given the future of you young people the most carefulconsideration, because it is for the future that you must now prepare.Youth is the time of preparation. It is the building time. As we sow inyouth, so we reap in age--huh. Then let us ask what to-day is the greatessential of success? There is but one answer--education. And so itfollows that you young people must receive the best education that yourfather's estate can give you; and as Art is long and Time fleeting, asthe poet truly remarks, you young people must enter upon the path oflearning at once."
The young people said nothing. The flow of words bewildered them. Mr.Braden then got down to brass tacks:
"I will make the necessary arrangements right away," he said. "We willrent the ranch and sell off some of the stock, and the money will beused in sending you all to some good school which will fit you forsuccess in life."
This was definite, concrete, different from generalities. Angus staredat the executor.
"Rent the ranch!" he exclaimed. "I guess not. I'm going to run itmyself."
Mr. Braden smiled tolerantly. "Your spirit is very creditable, my boy,but you are too young and inexperienced."
"I'm running it now," Angus told him, "and I'm going to keep on. I won'tstand for having it rented."
"At your age, my boy, you don't know what is best for you. You mustallow me to be the judge."
Youth is hot-headed, and the tongue of youth unruly.
"I will not stand for having the ranch rented," Angus repeated. "I amgoing to stay here and work it, and that's all there is to it."
Mr. Braden frowned at this brusque ultimatum. "I have already madearrangements with Mr. Poole, here, to take it over."
Angus looked at the drooping Mr. Poole and decided that he did not likehim.
"I don't care what you have made," he said bluntly. "Renters rip theheart out of a ranch. They take everything from the land and put nothingback; and when they have worked it out they quit. That's not going tohappen here, if I know it."
"You don't know what you're talking about," Mr. Poole observed.
"I think I know more about ranching than you do," Angus retorted.
"I was ranching before you was born," Mr. Poole told him loftily.
"Then why haven't you got a ranch of your own, instead of hoboing itaround, renting places?" Angus demanded.
Mr. Poole reddened and scowled. "I had a blame sight better ranch thanthis, but I sold it," he said.
"By your looks I think the sheriff helped you," Angus said. "You look tome like a man that is too lazy to turn over in bed, like a man thatwould sleep in winter and never hear his stock bawling for feed. Youwill never have this ranch. If you try to come on it--"
"Angus," Mr. Braden broke in with dignified severity, "you areforgetting yourself. You must not talk in that way to your elders."
But by this time young Mackay's temper, which had been graduallyrising, was beyond being damped off by a stern voice and dignifiedmanner.
"I will say what I think," he declared, "to this man Poole, or to you,or to anybody else, and I will back up what I say the best way I can.You come here and talk about renting the ranch and selling stock as if Ihad nothing to say about it. I tell you, now, it doesn't go. I amstaying here, and so are Jean and Turkey. If you try to put us off, orput this Poole or anybody else on, there will be trouble you can scoopup in a bucket."
Garland chose that moment to laugh. Angus turned on him with a scowl. Hewas like a young dog cornered by older ones, nervous, snarling, butquite ready to fight for his bone. He looked Garland in the eye.
"And that goes for you too," he said. "You will buy nothing with the MKbrand from anybody but me. You try to take a single head of my stock offthe range, and you'll do it in the smoke, do you savvy that?"
Garland laughed again, but there was a note of uneasiness in it, fornext to the real "bad man," cold, experienced and deadly, comes the boy,who, bred in the traditions of the old West, has the recklessness andhot passions of extreme youth. The history of the West teems withexamples.
"You're making a fool of yourself, kid," he said.
Here Dave Rennie broke the silence which had enwrapped him.
"Oh, I dunno," he observed.
"What have you got to say about it?" Garland demanded.
"I ain't said much so far," Rennie pointed out, "and I ain't goin' to.Only this: Don't nobody overplay his hand in this game--nobody at all."
"Who are you?" asked Mr. Braden.
"Me? Dave Rennie. I'm workin' for the kid."
"Then," said Mr. Braden, "I fail to see what interest you have in thematter, my friend."
"I get in this way," said Dave. "I'm a friend of the kid's, as well as ahired man. You can take what you like out of that."
Whatever Mr. Braden took out of it he did not immediately speak, butdrummed with his fingers on the table.
"One of my rules of life," he said, "is to get along without friction; Itrust I am a reasonable man. When I find that my views conflict withthose of others, I weigh both carefully. They may be right and I may bewrong. We must have no friction at the outset, Angus, and I think thatyou have misunderstood me. As you object to renting the ranch I am goingto give you an opportunity to think it over, and I am going to think itover myself. Then we will have another talk. Naturally, I must do whatis best for the estate, but I wish to meet your wishes as far aspossible. My sole desire is to do my best for all of you. Nofriction--no, no. We do not want friction, do we, my boy?"
"I do not want trouble at all," Angus said. "All I want is to run theranch, and that is what I am going to do."
"Yes, yes, I understand," Mr. Braden returned. "Well, do so for thepresent, my boy. Then we will talk it over again."
"There is no use talking it over," Angus maintained. "I have made up mymind."
Mr. Braden looked as though he desired to express his opinion of thisboyish obstinacy, but changing his mind he smiled benevolently andsuggested a look around the ranch. Angus accompanied him, pointing outwhat was needed and what he intended to do. The executor listened,asking an occasional question, giving now and then a bit of advice. Butwhen he had driven away Angus was thoughtful.
"You and him was gettin' to be some tillikums," Rennie observed.
"He seemed all right while I was going around with him," Angus admitted."He wants to get that notion of renting out his head, though. I wonderhow it would be on a show-down, Dave? Do you suppose he could rent theplace, no matter whether I wanted to or not, or was he only running asandy?"
"I dunno," Rennie admitted. "If I was you I'd go and have a talk withold Judge Riley, like your daddy told you to do if anything come up. Youmay catch him sober. Not," he added, "that the old boy ain't pretty wisewhen he's drunk."